


Chinga

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [107]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Banter, Gen, Missing Scene, Pre-Episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 13:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5293289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf





	Chinga

(Pre-episode)

Dana Scully could put up with a lot. This was a good thing, because her job certainly required a lot of her at times. Some days more than others.

Thursday morning, she and Mulder flew to Oklahoma to investigate a supposed sighting of a Thunderbird. An 8 year-old boy was playing in his backyard when he was reportedly picked up and carried the length of a football field by what his mother described as “a bird the size of a Volkswagon, with a lizard head.” Mulder, of course, had all manner of files on sightings -- none of them confirmed -- of what was essentially the avian version of Bigfoot. 

After examining the wounds on the boy’s shoulders, supposedly caused by the Thunderbird’s talons, Scully concluded that they may have been the result of clamps or some other mechanical device being used to perpetrate a hoax, evidence more of abuse than anything else. She and Mulder argued over their differing explanations, as they always did, and the end result was an overnight “stakeout” in the Ozarks, during which their gear was stolen, their rental car vandalized, and their sleep all but nonexistent due to mysterious loud noises near their campsite all night long. Mulder, unsurprisingly, saw all of this as evidence of the elusive cryptozoological creature, when in reality they had witnessed nothing but indistinct shapes in the dark and found one large feather that could easily have come from an eagle or other large bird of prey whose existence was not in question.

As they flew back to Washington on Friday evening, tired and bedraggled, Scully turned to her partner and said, “Mulder, can we just… declare ourselves out of the office for a couple of days? We have been called in on a case at least one day every weekend this month. Enough is enough.”

Mulder almost looked offended at the implication that she would ever want or need a break from their work. Eventually, he nodded, slowly.

“All right. We can take the weekend. Anything that’s not an emergency can wait til Monday.”

“And no defining ‘emergency’ as ‘something that seems really interesting,’ either,” she said. “Life or death only. In fact,” she added, “maybe I’ll go out of town so you can’t just call me in on a whim.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want, Scully. I hope you don’t think you’re beholden to me or something.”

She raised an eyebrow. Their relationship, both professional and personal, wasn’t anything near as simple as that. Beholden to him? Certainly not. But he was kidding himself if he thought she would refuse to go along with an assignment just because it was the weekend and she didn’t feel like it.

When they landed, she went upstairs and booked herself a flight for the next morning. She didn’t care too much about destination -- just wanted somewhere along the eastern seaboard -- and made her selection based purely on the convenience of the departure time. She tucked away her ticket to Portland, Maine and went back down to meet Mulder in the baggage claim.

She was back at the airport less than 12 hours later, ready to board her plane and begin her 2 days of vacation. She had books, several of her favorite CDs, and a plan for the weekend that involved fresh air, seafood, and relaxation.

Life, of course, rarely respects the plans of mere mortals.

The plane hit a patch of turbulence about midway through the flight, and the older gentleman in the next seat spilled his drink on her, completely dousing her shirt with whiskey and Coke, despite the early hour. He apologized profusely and insisted upon giving her money to replace her ruined blouse. She tried to decline, but he wouldn’t hear of it, so upon landing, she bought herself a souvenir t-shirt from the airport gift shop. She couldn’t have looked more like a tourist if she tried, but if that was the worst thing that happened to her, she could live with it.

She probably should have known better than to think she could truly get away from it all, even for 36 short hours.


End file.
